


éphémère

by Argentina



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, ENJOY MY FELLOW FAIRGAME SHIPPERS, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hopeful Ending, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Romantic Fluff, Sunrises, bro that killed me, i cried over the ending, i need this just as much as you do, post episode 12, wth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argentina/pseuds/Argentina
Summary: Two individuals pick up the pieces of their hearts after they're shattered. They only have so much time left, but the temporary things are always the most valued.aka the aftermath of volume 7 episode 12
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 121





	éphémère

**Author's Note:**

> this is super unedited so feel free to add concrit or point out mistakes! i just had to get it published as soon as possible because that ending holy heck

Qrow didn’t know he had it in him, but he manages to land a punch that absolutely shatters Clover’s aura. There’s just something about the situation that sets him afire, leaving his soul burning with passion and his heart melting with fury. Out of all the terrible things he had imagined that could go wrong in his life when everything seemed to have been running so smoothly lately, he hadn’t even had a single hint that it would come down to this. 

Not with Clover. Not with Ironwood. Hell, he _trusted_ Ironwood. He had put forth his faith and safety in the man’s hands, because he knew that Ozpin had trusted him too, and that he had no reason to hold doubts back then. But everything’s changed in a matter of mere minutes. After the call from Ruby, he didn’t know what to expect. It’s one thing to have to turn against Ironwood, but it’s something else entirely to have to fight against someone he had considered a friend as well. 

With Tyrian, Arthur, Salem and god knows who else as enemies, team RWBY and Qrow have gone through enough, and the citizens of Mantle most definitely do not need to be caught up in the conundrum. Qrow wishes it could’ve gone differently. There’s so much to fix, and he’s not sure he can ever do it all. 

With a semblance like his, Qrow _knows_ how to deal with betrayal. He knows how to keep things to himself, to stay as closed off and reserved as possible. He knows how to watch from a distance and to do what’s best for himself and everyone else, even if it means to sacrifice something huge in return. He knows how to push his emotions aside and fight to protect those that he loves. He knows how to deal with heartbreak. 

But there’s something about the person in question that shatters a fundamental piece of him. He hasn’t felt this way since a very long time ago, back when Yang and Ruby were barely toddlers. He hasn’t felt this way since Summer, and he’s grown a lot since then. He’s developed a new name for himself and he’s much more experienced, so the reason _why_ he feels the way he does isn’t clear to him. Nothing makes sense anymore. 

But Clover isn’t a bad person. He isn’t. Ironwood may be, but Clover doesn’t come up with such atrocious, despicable schemes himself. He follows orders, almost obsequiously, and it makes Qrow angry. 

As he watches Clover use his elbows in an attempt to prop himself up from the snow-covered ground, he chooses to ask. 

_“Why couldn’t you just do the right thing, instead of the thing you were told?”_

The words come out harshly, laced with venom. It’s the manifestation of his emotions seeping out of his heart and into the world, putting a part of him out for display when it was always meant to stay inside of him. It’s something extremely personal that he can’t seem to keep in check. A liability that’s bound to bring him down. He can’t fight like this, so he hopes that he won’t have to. It’s not too late for Clover to change his mind and prevent further damage, even if they’ve already gotten this far. He doesn’t need to continue carrying out Ironwood’s plan, and even if Qrow inevitably is detained for being a risk to Ironwood’s plot, it doesn’t need to be Clover who does it.

“Sometimes the right decision is the hardest to make,” Clover tells Qrow, standing up slowly, his left hand clutching at his abdomen. Qrow doesn’t care that the other man is injured. He _doesn’t_ , because the guy sure as hell deserves it. 

“I trust James with my life!” Clover continues, and he stands up fully, looking at Qrow dead in the eye. Qrow frowns and hardens his gaze. He thought Clover was smarter than that. 

“I wanted to trust you too.”

And Qrow doesn’t know what to say. There’s no way he can respond to that, because it’s an admission, one that you don’t ever say to your opponent’s face. Clover doesn’t lie. He’s fierce and willing to take things by storm, to confront and attain what he’s seeking, but he doesn’t deceive. It means that it must be true, then.

Qrow’s jaw is tense; his head is aching and his are hands shaking. He’s at a loss for words, because he doesn’t want Clover to know that he feels the same way. And it’s even worse on his end, because he didn’t simply _want_ to trust Clover. _He did_.

He sees a flash of movement ahead of him. Behind Clover. 

And he almost, _almost_ yells out for him to move to the side. But he doesn’t, and he can only watch as Tyrian brandishes a sword that doesn’t belong to him, yielding it with expertise and impure hands as he points it straight at Clover, pushing the metal blade clean through his back. 

The point of it ends up on the other side, and Clover makes a sound that makes Qrow want to throw up. He wants to scream and grab Tyrian and crush him in his hands; he wants to annihilate the abomination of a man who murders like it’s natural, like it’s normal. He wants to draw Harbinger and use it on him the same way it was used on Clover. And he’s going to _enjoy_ it, because he realizes that while he was focused on the way Clover had turned on him, he didn’t notice the true threat, the one everyone was facing long before everything broke loose. 

Clover isn’t the pressing matter here. He’s not the one who needs to be killed. And yet Qrow was fighting him one-on-one. Tyrian only did what Qrow thought he had wanted to happen, and now he’s filled to the brim with regret, because it _isn’t_ what he wanted. He didn’t want to have to hurt Clover. 

But he let his emotions get the better of him, to seize his actions and steer him in the wrong direction, and he’s _still_ letting them get in the way. He needs to think and make a decision, but his mind is cloudy and his brain hazy, and everything’s surreal. 

Clover’s ragged breathing snaps him back to reality, and he’s watching, held still by shock, as the man staggers forward, allowing gravity to pull him down. His blood is staining the pristine white of the crisp snow, the red tint saturating across the terrain. Qrow is trembling, and he doesn’t know whether it’s out of fear, anger, or both. 

He can’t bear to watch Clover, so he looks away and up at Tyrian. The cold-blooded criminal has a sickening smirk plastered on his face, and Qrow wants nothing than to wipe it off. He wants to _destroy_ Tyrian, but he doesn’t have his weapon, and he feels like he’s not completely there and in the moment. 

“I’ll kill you!” Qrow shouts, and it’s meant to be a promise, a way to redeem himself, a way to do one last beneficial thing for the people he still needs to save. A way to avenge Clover. Even if all the connections between them have been severed, he’s not going to let the other man die like this, in the snow, helplessly. He won’t settle for that.

Tyrian’s smirk grows wider, and what he says next breaks Qrow. “Oh, you mean like you just killed Clover?”

Tyrian tosses Harbinger the the side. The weapon falls to the floor, making a metallic clattering sound that is muffled by the cushioning, soft texture of the snow. 

Qrow’s heart stops, and he stares, wide-eyed. He’s never going to be able to prove his innocence. He’s going to be shot on sight and forgotten about as the higher-ups continue to eliminate Mantle and withhold his nieces, his friends, his teammates. 

Tyrian continues to say something else after that, but Qrow’s not listening anymore. There’s a ringing in his ears, and he can’t concentrate. 

He runs over to Clover and drops onto his knees, not knowing exactly where the wound is. There’s blood covering his clothing and spilling everywhere. He lets his hands hover above Clover’s body, feeling a muted sense of panic as he tries to remember how to do this. 

He’s never been good at all this medical stuff. He’s been focused on destruction and fighting strategies for so long that he hasn’t bothered to learn something as simple as healing another person. There’s a certain beauty, delicacy, and gentleness to the art of tending to someone that he’s always felt out of place when practicing it, as if his hands were too rough and careless to ever be able to do something that requires so much patience and dedication. 

But he has to. So he presses down on Clover’s stomach, causing him to cough and jerk at the sudden pressure, but Qrow doesn’t relent. He refuses to. 

“Someone had to take the fall,” Clover tells him, looking up at him with glossy eyes. 

“James will take the fall,” Qrow snaps. He’ll force him to pay. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Clover gives him a soft, understanding smile. “Good luck.”

It’s ironic, because luck really isn’t Qrow’s thing. It’s Clover’s, and Qrow _needs_ him.

Qrow panics. There’s so much he wants to tell him and not enough time. And he has to save Clover. He _has_ to, because he won’t be able to keep holding on without him. His entire life is falling apart, and Clover had given him hope. He had helped him push through every day, even if they have only known each other for a few months. He can’t lose this.

He lifts one hand from Clover, grabbing at his own clothing. He needs some sort of fabric; his hands aren’t going to suffice. His shirt, his jacket, _anything_ that’ll staunch the profuse bleeding. He doesn’t care that it’s freezing out here, he just needs something, fast. 

He’s pulling at his vest, trying to get it off, when Clover lifts one hand to grab his wrist. The grip is weak, but it’s enough to get Qrow’s attention, and Qrow looks down at him, his eyes misty. He blinks the tears out of them, trying to compose himself. Clover doesn’t need to see him like this, not right now. 

“Qrow,” Clover says, his voice faint. 

“Save your strength,” Qrow manages to choke out, shifting the arm that’s being held by Clover. He maneuvers it so that their palms are pressed together, fingers entangled. Both of their hands are slick with blood now, but Qrow hangs on tightly.

Clover smiles, shaking his head. “There’s nothing more you can do.”

“No, no,” Qrow tells him, using his opposite hand to reach up to Clover’s hair, sifting his fingers through the soft strands. The light brown is tinged with red, but neither of them care. “Don’t say that. The authorities are coming, right? They’re going to help you. And probably kill me, but so what?”

Clover chuckles at that. “Very funny. But there’s no time.”

“There _is_ time. We-” 

Clover places a finger to Qrow’s lips, effectively getting him to stop talking. “Don’t think about the future. We have right now.”

“What do you-”

Clover grabs Qrow by the collar of his shirt and pulls him down. They come face to face, and Clover leans upward slightly to lock lips with the raven-haired man. 

The kiss is light, simple and sweet. It’s so in character for Clover, and it leaves Qrow reeling. His mind is less foggy, and his thoughts less jumbled. His thoughts are starting to come together, clear and coherent. 

Things aren’t meant to last. That’s what Clover means. 

Living in the present is something that Qrow has never done before. He’s always been preparing for the future or reminiscing on the past, but he’s never let himself become fully absorbed in the moment, focusing on none other than what’s in front of him. Not even when spending time with Ruby and Yang, for he thinks about what’s out there, coming after them. He thinks about ways to protect his family when he’s supposed to be enjoying a reunion. 

He doesn’t even stay in the present when he’s fighting. He’s perpetually thinking about strategies, how he’s going to carry out his next move. His mind is always somewhere else, one way or another. 

But Clover isn’t that way. He’s happy with what he has, even when he could lose it at any moment, and Qrow finally understands how. 

When they pull apart, Clover looks even more pale than before, but his expression doesn’t falter. 

“I’ve always loved you, you know,” he says to Qrow, and Qrow swallows the lump in his throat. “Ever since I first saw you, you were something special.”

“How so?” Qrow asks, sliding his sleeve across his eyes. 

“You just… matched,” Clover tells him, shrugging. “We’re opposites, but we complement each other.”

“I love you too, you idiot.”

“I’m glad.”

Clover looks over Qrow’s shoulder, at something else that has seemed to grab his attention.

Qrow turns around to see the sunrise. That’s something else that differentiates him and Clover. Clover tends to appreciate the little things in life, things that Qrow has never stopped for. 

And it’s only now that he sees the beauty in doing so.

There’s the sound of a plane landing somewhere nearby. Clover tugs on Qrow’s hand.

“You still going to make Ironwood pay?”

**Author's Note:**

> who wrote this episode?


End file.
